


(Baby) Set my soul on fire

by calissequecestmignon



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:05:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3612756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calissequecestmignon/pseuds/calissequecestmignon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some fluff of domesticity followed by the angst of the positive test. Then some melodrama, arguments, explanations, sex, silence, a tiny bit of misery and a whole lot of angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just about got it right.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a Spiritualized song "Soul on Fire".

Oliver comes into the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel that he pulls off and flings over onto Connor lying on the bed. "Hey, your turn in the shower."

Connor throws off the covers and stretches. "Okay, but I don't know why I couldn't just shower _with_ you."

Oliver sits naked on the bed, reaching over a hand to absentmindedly stroke Connor's nipple. "Because I wanted to get clean and with you in the shower I don't think we would have been concentrating on that."

Connor closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of Oliver's fingers. "I'm sure I could keep my hands off your dick long enough to take a shower."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Well that's hard to believe given that you have your hand on my dick right now."

"You started it, you have your hand on my nipple."

Oliver laughs and stands up. "Okay, hands off both of us.  You get in the shower, and I'll get dressed and maybe go throw these sheets in the laundry." He grabs the sheets off Connor and pulls.

Connor groans. "Why do I have to get up at all?"

"Because we've been in this bed having sex for 24 hours now and we need to get up and do other things." He starts opening drawers, looking for clothes.

"We have not been in bed for 24 hours,” Connor smiles. "Didn't we get up and watch TV?"

Oliver is putting his underwear on and turns and laughs. "We didn't even watch one episode, we basically just ended up fucking on the couch."

"Those guys in that show are so hot! We should've watched something less ...interesting." laughs Connor.

"I don't think there's anything interesting enough to make me keep my hands off you." Oliver picks a t-shirt out of his drawer and pulls it over his head.

"You're a bad boy, Oliver Hampton." Connor smiles and rolls out of the bed. He walks up to Oliver and kisses him softly. "I'll be quick in the shower, I can get the stuff into the laundry, you don't have to do it all the time."

"I'll make coffee."

"Besides 'please, Connor, fuck me' I think you say 'I'll make coffee' the most." He kisses him again.

"I think the thing we've both said the most in the past day and night has been 'I'm coming'".

You _are_ a bad boy, Oliver." teases Connor, running his hand down Oliver's chest straight to his groin, where he slides his hand into his boxers and  cups his hand around Oliver's balls.

Oliver takes his hand off. "No touching. My penis is completely worn out, it needs a break."

"Well, better tell it not to watch me walk away, it might wake right up again looking at my ass". Connor disappears into the bathroom and Oliver hears the water turn on.

The coffee is just finished brewing when Oliver hears Connor in the bedroom, opening and closing drawers. "Do you know where my blue shirt is?" Connor calls.

  "No."

"I can't find it anywhere."

"Check the laundry basket."

"No, we washed it last week and it should be here somewhere."  Connor appears in the kitchen wearing boxers and carrying a grey shirt. "It's like this, but blue."

"I know what 'blue' is. I still don't know where the shirt is. Did you look around the floor? That room is a mess."

"I'll go look again."

 "Wait, drink coffee." says Oliver, handing him a cup.

 "Oh my god, you're like a drug dealer, always pushing caffeine on me."

"It's good and good for you." Oliver fills his own cup and stands looking at Connor. "Pants?" 

"I guess I should find some to wear. Are we going to pick up my car at Asher's?" He drinks some coffee.

"Do you want to call or text him and see if he wants to go out for breakfast?" 

They both look at the clock on the stove and smile at each other. "Okay, lunch?" says Oliver.

"I'll text him." Connor looks around. "Where's my phone?"  

"It must be in the bedroom, everything we've touched for the past day is in there now".  

Connor walks to the bedroom and surveys the mess. There are dishes and coffee cups and clothes and books on every surface, the sheets have been stripped and are on the floor. He spots his phone on the bedside table and sends a text to Asher. "This room smells." he says when Oliver appears at his side. They stand in the doorway surveying the mess.

"Smells like what?" says Oliver.

 "Sex, mostly".

"We should pick up before we go, I don't want to come back to this."

They put down their coffee and sort through the mess. "Okay, seriously, these used condoms are everywhere. How many did we even use?" Oliver sounds peeved.

"Lots. Lots and lots. Thank fuck for that," Connor laughs. He slips into his pants. "I'll run the sheets down to the laundry".

Oliver is picking up used condoms with a look of distaste.

"Really, Oliver? What's with the look?"

"I don't know, there's just so many of them, all cold and gross now". Connor rolls his eyes and gathers the sheets. Oliver hears the apartment door open and close and turns back to the room. It is unquestionably gross. Oliver starts cleaning up, putting dirty clothes in a basket in the corner, bringing dishes into the kitchen and filling the sink with hot water. Connor comes back in. "It's in the washing machine. Let's not forget to put it into the dryer later."  He checks his phone. "Asher said he's home now if we want to come in the next hour or so."

"Sounds good, does he want to go for lunch?"

"Yeah, he said that's good."

 "I'll just finish these dishes." 

"I'll put clean sheets on the bed so it's ready for tonight".

"Don't get ideas, I'm taking a break tonight". 

"Good, I can finally watch the last two episodes of Looking," laughs Connor.

"Connor, listen," Oliver begins and he sounds serious enough that Connor stops and looks at him. Oliver dries his hands, walking over to him. "You know, if we don't want to have to use condoms, there is a solution to that." 

Connor looks surprised "Um, what do you mean? I wasn't complaining about using condoms."

"I'm just saying, wouldn't it be nice not to have to use a condom every time." 

"I don't care if we have to use them, I'm used to it, it's just what we do."

"Yeah, but if we didn't have to..." Oliver lets his words hang there.

 "I guess so," Connor says dubiously. "But, well, it's not exactly _safe_."

 Oliver kisses Connor on the neck, just below his ear in the spot guaranteed to drive him crazy. "That's why we would have to go and get tested first. To make sure it _was_ safe. Just think about it, will you? Maybe not for now but.." 

"I don't know, Oliver. That's not --. "

Oliver interrupts him, "But if we're in a relationship, we don't need to use them. It would be so good, it would _feel_ so good", Oliver continues to nuzzle Connor. "Haven't you ever done it without a condom?"

"Um, well, since Aiden only a few times, but not, like, I mean, I try not to, actually". 

"Think about it, will you? If we go and get tested and we don't have anything, then there's no reason to keep using condoms. I mean, since we're going to be exclusive. Which we are, right?" 

"Yes, of course we're being exclusive. I just. I don't know, it seems a bit odd not to use condoms, that's all." 

"Being in a monogamous relationship means you don't have to use them. And we're in a monogamous, _exclusive_ relationship, right?" Oliver looks at Connor for confirmation. Connor flushes slightly feeling the rebuke that Oliver isn't quite making. He kisses Oliver on the mouth, gently biting his bottom lip. But Oliver is not to be sidetracked. "Right?" he repeats, looking Connor in the eyes.

"Right. Yes. Of course," says Connor.

"So you'll think about it."

"I'll think about it."

"Just think about it". Oliver kisses him again right in that spot and this time Connor leans into it. "And think about fucking me bare, Connor. Think about how hot that would be."

"Oh, Oliver," Connor moans. "Are we going back to bed?" 

"No."

Connor wraps his arms around Oliver and presses his erection up against him. "Are we just going to do it right here?" 

Oliver laughs, "We're not doing it, we have to go, Asher's waiting for us."

"Stop teasing me then," Connor says in a voice that makes it clear the teasing is fine with him.

" _You're_ always teasing _me_ , what's good for you is good for me."

"I hate you."

Oliver slides his hand up Connor's thigh, up onto his hardening dick. "That thing in your pants is saying something else."

"That thing in my pants would love to have a long conversation with your hand." Connor puts his hand over Oliver's and pushes into it.

"Connor. we're supposed to be getting out the door," Oliver says but the truth is that he is very tempted to forget lunch, forget the car, forget everything and just run back into bed with this guy standing in front of him.

Connor smiles at him, "Don't look at me like that, Oliver, not if we expect to get out the door today. If we're going, let's go. My car's been over there so long, Asher's going to start thinking it's his."

Oliver puts his phone in his pocket and hands Connor his. "Phone, keys, wallet...where's your wallet?  Do you have the car key or did you leave it with Asher?"

"Left it there in case he had to move it out of the way," says Connor. He puts his things into his pocket and stands smiling at Oliver until Oliver notices him.

"What?"

"This is nice," says Connor.

"What's nice?" asks Oliver.

"This," says Connor gesturing vaguely with his hands.

"This?" asks Oliver, looking around, puzzled. "What 'this'?"

"This, us. This domesticity. I never realized how nice it is to just have _this_." He smiles. "This, having someone to do things with--"

"Things beside sex, you mean?" Oliver smiles.

Connor kisses him. "Yes, that's what I mean. Although sex is good, too." His hand strays below Oliver's belt. Oliver takes his hand off and holds onto it.

"Lunch is good, too," he laughs. "And Asher's waiting."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. I don't know where we're going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the positive results come in.

Connor slowly sinks down onto the edge of the bed, completely stunned by Oliver’s news. He stares at Oliver’s tear-streaked face, speechless. Oliver looks completely destroyed. He asks Connor plaintively,

 “How did I even get this?”

Connor takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He needs a clear head right now, he needs to be the one who does not fall apart. He needs to be calm and reassuring. He knows all this but isn’t sure if he can live up to it.

“Obviously one of your boyfriends cheated on you. And since you weren't usually using condoms, ...this is what happens, right? He couldn't ask you to use a condom or else you would know.”

Oliver is not persuaded. “I'm not even promiscuous, I don't sleep around, I never have.”

Connor closes his eyes. He feels somehow guilty, as though he has managed to get away with something that wasn’t his due. He feels that perhaps he has dodged the bullet while Oliver has been clearly in its’ path. But on an intellectual level, he recognizes the faulty thinking they are both engaged in. He says gently “Well, despite what fundamentalist Christians like to think, HIV and AIDS aren't god's punishment for sleeping around.”

Oliver wipes at his face with his hand.  “Now what will happen with us?”

“We'll be fine. We'll be careful. It'll be fine.” Connor reassures him.

“ How?  How will we be fine?  What about our sex life?”

“Jesus Christ, Oliver, positive guys have sex all the time.  Look at the guy in that show we watched, he’s positive and …”     Oliver interrupts him “This is real life, not TV.”

“I’m sure they researched it, Oliver. It’s supposed to be realistic. Anyway this just means we have to be careful and if we're careful it's safe--hence the term "safe sex".

“We'll always have to use condoms. We'll never be able to ...”

“So what, so do millions of other gay guys. And straight guys, too, for that matter.  Asher and Michaela both told me they use condoms all the time.  I didn't care anyway about not using them, you were the one all keen on it. So it's off the table. So fucking what.

“Everything's changed.”

“You are such a drama queen, Oliver. Seriously. Now get out of bed and stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I'm not getting out.”

“Fine. Then I'm getting in with you. And I'm taking all my clothes off first.” Connor starts peeling off his clothes.

“No, don't.”

Ignoring him, Connor strips down, dropping all his clothes into a heap on the floor. “ And then I'm going to take off all of _your_ clothes.”

Oliver pulls the covers up around himself. “ I'm really not in the mood.”

Connor climbs onto the bed and wriggles underneath the covers. “Oliver. I'm getting into bed with my boyfriend. I'm getting into bed with my boyfriend who I love who is going through something stressful and upsetting and I'm going to cuddle up with you. We're both in the mood for that.”

“ Fine. But I'm leaving on my boxers.”

With one practiced motion Connor peels Oliver out of his t-shirt. “No, you aren't. You aren't because that's not what we usually do and as much as possible for both our sake's let's try to keep things as normal as possible.”  He slips his hand into the waistband of Oliver’s boxers and slips them down. Despite his protests, Oliver obliging lifts his ass to let Connor slide them off.

“Nothing's going to be normal ever again.”

“Ah, there's your inner drama queen coming out again. Who knew underneath that calm and cool demeanor there lurks some quiet hysteria.  Oliver, listen to me. I'm not trying to minimize how serious this is or how upsetting it is to get news like this but…”

“There's no 'but' to this,” interrupts Oliver.

Connor cups Oliver’s face with one hand, turning him so he has to look at Connor. With his thumb, he wipes at a tear trickling down his face. “Oliver. Oliver,” he says softly.  “People get diagnosed with terrible things every single day. Diabetes. Cancer. Hepatitis. MS. Crohn's. I mean I could give you a huge fucking list. Shit happens to people. Now shit has happened to us. And we're just going to fucking deal with it. We're going to deal with it and we're going to be okay.”

Oliver sniffles, “We can never have sex again. What if I give it to you? I would never forgive myself.”

Connor smiles. “Oliver. We are definitely going to have sex again. Lots and lots and lots of sex. We'll go to your doctor, we'll get all the information we need, we'll get meds for you if they think it's a good plan,  I could even take PrEP if they tell us to, we'll use condoms and, you know, we'll just deal with this.”

“How do you know those things?”

Connor shrugs. “I'm a gay guy, Oliver. I thought we all knew those things. I just know about them kind of vaguely but now we'll do a lot of research. Knowledge is power, Oliver. Look, I can look shit up on my phone right now.”

“I'm not going to take advice from some third-rate website.”

Connor is scrolling through sites on his phone. “Here, CDC, is that first-rate enough for you?”

“I guess,” says Oliver, reluctantly.  

“They have tons of info.....okay want me to read what I found?”

“What are you looking for?”

“I'm seeing what's safe to do...”

“Nothing.”

“Not true. They even have stuff listed in order of how safe it is. Huh.”

“What?”

“It says that unprotected topping is safer than unprotected bottoming. That’s what I always thought but that nurse told me it wasn’t true. I was completely freaked out. But this says I was right.” He continues scrolling through, “Oh, good, look.”

“Now what?”

“ Blow jobs are very safe.” He shows the phone to Oliver. “ See?  Doesn't that make you feel better?  I feel great already.”

“You're nuts.”

“I love you. I love sex. I love sex with you. I plan to continue fucking you.”

“You are nuts.”

“Oliver, it's 2015. It's not like it was back in the early days of AIDS or even 10 or 15 years ago. There's a lot of treatment options out there. And in another 10 years or 15 years, things will be even better still.  We're going to be okay. We're going to be fine. Trust me.”

“I trust you. But this is something else altogether.”

“No, this isn't something else altogether. This is more of the same stuff. This is life. This is what happens to people sometimes. Now we're going to see what we are really capable of.”

Oliver makes a face, “You aren't going to tell me to be brave and to be strong are you?”

“No, I'm not. That's bullshit. That's just bullshit for romance novels and romantic movies where someone dies a beautiful death. We don't need to be brave and strong. We need to be smart. We need to understand. We need to deal head on with this. I mean, maybe that is being brave and strong but I think right now we can leave out the romanticism and just stick to practical. Maybe wise. But I don't think I'm old enough for wise.”

“You were wise enough not to get this.”

Connor pulls Oliver into him and Oliver relaxes into his arms. “I was careful,” says Connor, talking into Oliver’s hair.  “But I wasn't _always_ careful and so I was lucky too. I don't want to start making decisions for you, Oliver but…”

Oliver closes his eyes, thinking how nice it feels to be sitting here together. “But what?”

“Personally, I don't find much joy in wondering why bad shit is happening to me. I mean, do we think bad shit should happen to someone else?  I just can't think like that. Something bad has happened and we need to deal with it.” Connor runs his hands through Oliver’s hair, trying to soften a statement that may seem harsh.

Oliver pushes away from his embrace to look at him, “You mean, _I_ need to deal with it.”

Connor shakes his head, “We _both_ need to deal with it. That's the beauty and wonder of this particular piece of crap--we both are going to have to deal.”

Oliver looks away, “You don't have to. You can bail.”

Connor shrugs, “Sure. I could bail. But I don't want to bail.”

“Maybe not now, but some day.” Oliver folds his arms around himself and gives Connor a defiant look.

Connor pulls Oliver’s arms around him and settles into his chest, listening to Oliver’s heartbeat, “I thought we were going to get married?”

“Doesn't this change things?”

“Not for me. And you know what?  I don't even understand why you would think like that. Do you think I love you any less because you're HIV positive?”

“I'm not the same.”

“Look, I can understand that you don't _feel_ the same. I spent a very stressful day thinking I was positive and yeah, I think anytime someone has something wrong with their health, they may feel really differently. So yes, you may not _feel_ the same but my love for you is the same as it was yesterday. I'm not just going to fall out of love with you because you have a health crisis.”

“But it just isn't the same as those other things, it's going to affect our sex life, it means I could harm you so it isn't like being diabetic or having cancer even--it's so much worse.”

“Oliver. My main concern isn't you giving this to me. My main concern is going to be keeping you healthy, making sure you get the best care. People who are HIV positive live long lives now, it's not like it once was.”

“My main worry is giving it to you.”

“Oliver, I told you--safe sex. safe sex. safe sex. Haven't we had this pounded into our brains since we were in school? Safe sex isn't just some mantra, it's a set of practices.”

“But I already failed at it once.”

“You didn't fail.”

“I fucked up, Connor. I fucked up.”

Connor slowly unwraps from Oliver’s embrace. He sits beside him, back against the headboard and takes Oliver’s hand in his own, “Babe, it's not like that.”

“Yes, it is. I fucked up. I let this happen.”

“Someone fucked up, yes. And you're going to have to trace this back down the line and thank fuck you weren't as slutty as I've been because that makes it easier at least.”

“Oh, my god, you're right. Oh my god.”

“Maybe they already know.”

“And didn't tell me?”

“Okay, maybe they don't know.”

“I don't know who it is.”

“Did you have unprotected sex with all of them?” There is no accusation in Connor’s voice, just an acknowledgement that these things happen. Thoughts of his own less-than-perfect choices pass through his head. Unlike Oliver, Connor's list would include guys he might not be able to pick out of a line-up.

Oliver cannot meet Connor's eye. His mouth is set in a line and he focuses on the end of the bed. He takes two deep breaths and when he speaks, his voice quavers on the verge of tears.

“I thought I was in a monogamous relationship.”

“But, Ollie,” Connor begins and then stops. And there is the unspoken: _every time?_

“I know. I know. We were just pretending to be exclusive. Just pretending to be monogamous.”

“So even if it was only those four guys.”

“I know. You don't have to tell me. I know. I know. Connor, I am so sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize to me, Oliver.”

Connor looks at Oliver. Oliver slides his eyes away but as he does Connor sees his face crumble. Tears roll silently down his face but then he is weeping with his face in his hands and then the weeping turns to sobbing and his shoulders heave. Connor puts his arms around Oliver and pulls him into his chest. Oliver sobs brokenly.  Connor strokes his hair and murmurs softly to him 'it's okay it's okay it's okay it's going to be okay' over and over and over he says it until Oliver cries himself out. They sit, together, waiting to see what comes next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I checked the info about what is safest and three different sites confirmed that topping unprotected is safer than bottoming unprotected (which is what I always was told so when the nurse said differently I was kind of surprised). But really, use a condom everybody--every time.


	3. (Baby) Never should say never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melodrama in five parts

"What time and where should I meet you to see the doctor?" asks Connor, putting his books into his bag.

"You don't have to come." Oliver watches him, holding his coffee cup. He is wearing a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair a mess and his eyes still red from crying off and on most of the night.

"Of course, I'm coming. I _want_ to come with you, Oliver. I need to know what the doctor says and what we should be doing."

"I don't want you to have to miss a class just for this."

Connor looks at him, surprised. " _This_  is important. For both of us. I want to be there with you. Just tell me where and when."

Oliver sighs. "Okay then. One o'clock. I'll text you the address."

 "Are you going to be okay until then?" He looks worriedly at Oliver. "Going to take a shower? Get dressed? Eat something besides coffee?"

Oliver nods.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay home this morning with you? I don't mind. We could sneak in a little Connor and Oliver time until we have to leave."  Connor gives Oliver one of his looks--a look that Oliver is usually helpless to resist. He has no trouble resisting this morning however.

"Just go, I'll be fine."

Connor looks like he may argue that point, but decides against it. He kisses Oliver chastely then leans in to kiss him again but Oliver is backing away. "You better go if you don't want to be late for your class."

"See you later.  I love you. Don't worry. It'll be okay."

\-----------------------------

After class, Connor bumps into Michaela in the hall. "Hey," she says. "Do you want to come to the library? Laurel and Wes and I reserved a study room, you can come study with us if you want."

"Ah, no. Thanks, but I have to meet Oliver."

"How did things turn out the other day?" she asks.

Connor clears his throat and starts fiddling with his phone. He looks in the vicinity of Michaela but not right at her.  In fact, to her he looks very suspicious. "Connor?"

Connor bites his bottom lip. "Actually, things didn't turn out all that great." he says.

"Oh, no! Connor," Michaela covers her mouth with her hand, looking shocked. "You're not positive are you?" she whispers as a group of students walks by.

Connor shakes his head and a look of relief passes over her face. Then, in answer to her silent question he says "Oliver is."

"Oh, shit, Connor,"  Michaela is genuinely distressed although whether it is for Connor or Oliver, he isn't sure. "How is he? Is he feeling okay?"

"He feels fine, it's not that kind of a diagnosis."

"I meant is he feeling _mentally_ okay, not physically." 

"He's fine, really. He's just going to the doctor to get some information and stuff and I promised I would go with him. But he's fine. Everything's fine."

Michaela raises her eyebrows. "Fine. I've noticed that the more people say they are fine, the less likely they are to actually _be_ fine."

Connor acknowledges this with a nod of the head. "Okay, yes, it's a bit to take in right now but I know that after this initial getting used to it we'll be fine. It was kind of a shock to us both, you know, Oliver..." he fades away.

Michaela nods as though she understands but she knows she is not getting all of the story here. Still, she also knows that Connor will share only a bit of the whole story and the fact that he has even told her this much is testament to how upsetting the news must have been to him. Clearly, he is looking for some consolation. She hugs him and he actually hugs her back which makes her even more worried. She is already missing sarcastic, vulgar Connor. "Well, you better go then. Let me know if there's anything I can do. You have my number. Call me if you want to talk."

"Thanks, but we'll be .." he says and she says the last word with him -- "fine."

 

\-------------

 

"Are you going in to work tomorrow?" Connor asks, pulling off his sweater. Oliver is already nestled down under the covers.

''No."

Connor steps out of his pants and boxers and pulls off his socks. "Why not?"

"I don't feel like it." Connor can barely hear Oliver's voice, muffled as it is by the pillow.

He climbs into the bed and slides over to Oliver. "Jesus, Oliver, what the fuck are you wearing?"

"It's cold."

"I'm here to warm you up." he says reaching to pull him close. Oliver stays stubbornly in place. Connor sighs and lays back on his side of the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Why aren't you going in tomorrow? You haven't been to work since we saw the doctor."

"My office isn't going to come to a screaming halt if I miss a day of work."

"Three days."

"Whatever."

"But you love your work. Don't you think you might feel better if you got up and out the door? Get your mind on other things, problems to solve, office gossip to listen to."

"I don't care."

They are both silent. Oliver stubbornly so and Connor trying to think of what he could possibly say that would get through to him. He sneaks a hand under the covers and tries to slide it up under Oliver's t-shirt. Oliver pushes his hand away and rolls further away. "Fuck, Oliver, if you move any further away from me, you're going to fall onto the floor," Connor jokes. "How about a massage? It might make you feel better."

 "No."

"A hug?"

"No."

"A goodnight kiss?"

"No."

"Hold my hand?"

"Ha, ha. And no."

Connor gently bangs his head against the headboard and tries again. "Okay, so no sweet gestures. How about.....I fuck you?"

Oliver doesn't even change his tone. "No."

"Suck my dick?"

"Not funny."

"I suck yours?"

"Still not funny."

Exasperated, Connor bangs his head again, a little bit harder than before.

"Stop doing that, it's annoying as shit."

"Oliver could you please please talk to me." Connor says. "For the past three days, ever since we went to see the doctor, you've barely spoken to me and we haven't had sex at all. Could you please just," he bangs his head again, "just talk to me please and tell me what is going on in your head. I'm trying to understand, I'm trying to help but --"

"I don't need your help." interrupts Oliver.

"Maybe I need _your_ help." says Connor.

"I can't help you."

Bang, bang goes Connor's head on the headboard.

"Can you turn off the light?" asks Oliver. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Come on, Oliver, can't we talk about this?" pleads Connor.

"No."

 

\-------------------

"Connor, thank you so much for giving us a lift home," says Laurel buckling up her seatbelt. "Michaela and I have so much stuff to carry, this is great."

"No problem," says Connor.

"You don't need to hurry home to the boyfriend?" she teases.

"Ah, no," says Connor pulling out of the parking spot. "No hurry."

"How're things going, anyway?" asks Michaela from the backseat.

"Just fine."

"Just fine." repeats Michaela. "Okaayy."

Laurel turns to look at Michaela and then at Connor. "What's going on here? What are you two talking about? Because it doesn't sound like much is fine, Connor. And if you don't mind me saying so, you don't look fine today at all. Did something happen with the boyfriend? Did you break up already? How long have you been living together?"

Connor stares intently at the red light so Laurel turns back to Michaela, giving her a silent 'what the hell is going on' look. Michaela rolls her eyes toward Connor in a 'I can't tell you right now' look. Laurel turns back in her seat to look out the front window. "Well, if you aren't in a hurry, do you want to come in when we get there? We were just going to order something to eat and relax for a bit"

Connor shrugs, "I don't want to intrude on girl time." 

"Not at all," insists Laurel, 'right, Michaela?"

 "That's right," agrees Michaela, "come and eat with us, it'll be nice."  When Connor agrees they both know something is seriously not fine with their friend.

 

It takes halfway through the second bottle of wine for Connor to become chatty. The three of them have reached that perfect stage; drunk enough to make them feel comfortable opening up and sharing yet not so drunk that they become maudlin and pathetic. They have been out onto the balcony twice so Laurel and Connor can smoke cigarettes (who would guess that Laurel had such vices?) while Michaela leaned in the doorway away from the smoke lecturing them on their bad habit. Now they are settled comfortably in the living room, all three sprawled on the floor despite the comfortable sofa.

"So, Connor," begins Laurel with a bemused look over the top of her wineglass at him, "tell us what is keeping you from being your usual obnoxious, yet witty, self this evening. Boyfriend trouble?"

"From the boy who 'doesn't do boyfriends' that's quite a change," muses Michaela. "It seems like only a few short months ago you were getting naked with anyone who would ask. And now?" She looks at him.

Connor gives a wry smile. "And now I can't seem to get naked with anyone. Or rather, I can't get naked with the one person I would like to get naked with."

"Hmmm," murmurs Laurel, "so-- trouble in paradise so soon? Maybe you've worn him out already."

"Maybe it's just a dry spell," offers Michaela. "Maybe he's busy at work. Maybe he's worried about other things," she says meaningfully giving Connor a look and looking quickly at Laurel as though to say 'are you going to tell her?'.

"Maybe you need to spice things up a bit," Laurel continues. "Monogamy can become rather dull at times. You may need to put in some extra effort."

"Trust me," says Connor, "I put in extra effort every single time. I've done nothing but put in effort for the past three days and I've been cock blocked by Oliver himself every time."

"Have you talked with him?" asks Michaela.

"I've tried," replies Connor, reaching to pour all three of them another glass of wine. "He won't talk, he won't listen to me talk, he won't fuck, he won't even let me see him naked. He's been sleeping with sweatpants and a t-shirt on, for fuck's sake!"

"Did I miss something here?" asks Laurel. "I feel like I'm coming in on the middle of this story."

Connor looks to Michaela. "It's not _my_ story," she protests, "you tell her if you want her to know."

"It's not a big deal," Connor says but he looks very uncomfortable even with all that wine in him. Laurel waits expectantly and when he doesn't continue she turns to Michaela. "What is it?"

Connor clears his throat and says with a false air of nonchalance, "Oliver insisted we be tested the other day and, um, well, it turns out he's positive. And I'm not." He takes a big drink.

Laurel looks confused."Positive? Positive for what?" 

Again Connor looks to Michaela and this time she takes pity and rescues him, "For HIV."

"Ah," says Laurel. She looks at Connor, "So how is he doing? Is he well?"

"Yes, he's fine. At least physically. But--". 

"But he's upset emotionally," concludes Laurel.

"Yeah. And he's taking it out on me."

"Well, that's how people are, aren't they? We take things out on the ones closest to us. Maybe it's not the mature, adult way, but we do it so often." She swirls her wine around the glass. "One of my friend's mother has been HIV positive for years now, she was diagnosed when we were in grade school."

  "Really? asks Michaela, "and how is she?" 

"I think she's good," says Laurel, "I heard from my friend during the Christmas break, she didn't mention anything which usually means all is fine. It's just been like this chronic condition that she has, kind of in the background of her life. She lives a regular life, she's a teacher. That's why I asked if Oliver was well."

"He's fine," says Connor, "that's partly why this is so frustrating. The doctors told us that we could have sex as long as we were safe about it."

"Wow. I feel for you. I mean, I don't think I would stay in a relationship if there wasn't going to be any sex. Right, Michaela?"

Michaela nods. "I know, it sounds so crass but ...well, sex is an important part of being together. Otherwise we're just friends. Would you stay with your legal aid guy if you weren't getting it on?"

Laurel doesn't answer, her thoughts in the clouds. "Laurel?" prompts Michaela

Laurel's gaze comes back to her. "I have to say, yes, I would definitely be sleeping with someone else also."

"Also?" Connor raises his eyebrows in surprise.

Laurel flushes, "I meant 'someone else' period."

Connor nods, "Sure. Sure you did," he smiles, "But something tells me you aren't telling us _all_ your stories tonight."

She laughs, "Tonight isn't about my stories. Tonight is about yours."

"Well, I've told my story, not much to tell though. Oliver troubles. Again."

He's kinda cute," says Laurel.

"He's gorgeous." answers Connor.

"Seems reasonably intelligent."

"He's brilliant."

"Good in bed?"

"Fucking amazing!"

"You love him."

"I'm madly in love with him."

"So, he's got you by the balls."

"And not in the way I like."

 

\------------------------

Oliver is in the kitchen when Connor comes in. "Did you get my text?"

 "Yeah, I got it." Oliver sounds annoyed.

 "You didn't answer it so I wasn't sure."

"What did you want me to say?"

Connor looks uncertain, "Nothing, just wanted to know you knew where I was."

"Well, I did."

Connor stands in the doorway across from him. "Oliver, you seem so pissed off with me. If you could tell me what I've done wrong here, I promise to fix it. Whatever it is, I'm sorry."

Oliver looks evenly at Connor. He says nothing.

"What is it?  Are you mad at me? Are you mad at yourself? Do you hate me? Do you love me? Do you want me to go? Is everything over already? Tell me."

"Yes."

Yes? Connor stares at him. "Yes to all that?"

Oliver stares right back, arms folded. He cannot hold that gaze though when he sees Connor's eyes fill with tears. He says nothing only shrugs his shoulders.

"I don't believe you." Connor whispers.

"Believe me. I'm mad at you. I'm mad at myself. I hate you. I want you to go. It's over."

Connor is shaking his head. "No no no. You love me. If you're saying yes to all that--you love me. Don't do this. Don't do this again."

 Oliver takes off his glasses, puts them on the counter and rubs his eyes. Connor notes that Oliver with glasses is fucking adorable and Oliver without glasses is fucking hot. A pang of longing shoots through him, a rush of desire to cross the room and to be in Oliver's arms. He isn't sure if he wants to be the one being comforted or the one doing the comforting but he knows that's where he needs to be. And in four steps he's there, directly in Oliver's personal space and Oliver has nowhere to back up so Connor crowds him just a little bit more.

"Hey," he whispers, trying to make Oliver look him in the eye. When he does, Connor isn't sure what he is seeing--anger, hate, love, sorrow--this man who he loves is closed to him but he leans in anyway and kisses him. For a minute, all is right, Oliver opens his mouth to Connor with a small whimper of desire and Connor feels his warm tongue meet his. For a minute, Connor feels the relief of return but Oliver brings both hands to Connor's chest and pushes him back. He sidesteps quickly around him.

 "I can't do this. I'm sorry. We can't do this." he says. Before Connor can even think what to do, Oliver is at the front door grabbing his coat. "I won't make you go. But I'm going." And he walks out, leaving Connor alone in the quiet apartment. "What the fuck just happened here?" he asks the empty rooms.


	4. Trying hard to hold on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get even more complicated. But at least there is a brief interlude of sex.

Oliver paces Molly's living room, explaining why he was justified in stomping out leaving Connor behind. Or at least trying to explain. The more he talks, the less he believes in his own story. The more he talks, the less he understands.  

Molly gives him  a look that is half annoyed, half amused.  "I thought after you left that guy Jake you spent some time trying to understand your own behaviour and motivations."

"I did."

"Hard to believe given what little insight you seem to have here on your own actions."

"Are you speaking as my friend or my therapist." Oliver looks at her with raised eyebrows.

"I can't be your therapist, I'm your friend," she says. "As you well know. But as your friend I'm not going to stand by and say nothing while you mess things up for yourself."

"I'm not messing things up for myself. Things have gotten messed up. I thought he was the perfect guy for me but now, this changes everything. If he had also been positive, we would have been okay, but now..." He sinks down onto the sofa.

"Oliver, I don't know whether to take you in my arms and console you or to call you out on this line of bullshit you're trying to sell me. Your excuses are sad. And fucked up." She fixes him with one of her no-nonsense Molly glares.

"It's not bullshit," begins Oliver. "Doesn't it make sense that --"

She cuts him off. "No, it doesn't make sense. It's beyond making sense. I don’t see how this makes sense to you even.”

"I just feel that if I were dating --"

"Living with," Molly interjects.

He acknowledges her with a nod of his head.  _"Living with --_ someone who was positive then I wouldn't have to worry so much about giving it to him. It would be easier, that's all. For both of us."

"And you think it'll be easy to leave him?"

Oliver doesn't answer. He bites his bottom lip and looks away from her.

"Or easier to leave than to stay and work things out?" she continues. "How would that be any easier? Don't you remember what it was like the other three times you _had_ to break up with someone you were living with? It was never easy and you --" she stops suddenly and her eyes narrow. She grabs his arms, turning him toward her. "Oliver, don't tell me you have someone else in the wings. Do you?" she gives him a little shake. "Is that what you've done?  Damn you, Oliver, you better not have done that to Connor.”

"No, I don't have anyone else. Why would you think that?" he pulls away from her, moves further down the sofa.

"Why would I think that?" she asks, "because every other time you've had boyfriend problems, that's been your solution--instead of fixing things you just move on to someone new. Someone perfect. Or so you would believe. Until _that_ didn't work out and you would move on again." She exhales loudly. "Wasn't that what you were supposed to be working on the entire time you spent alone? Before you met Connor?"

"This isn't the same at all. And yes, I did spend time figuring that out. And figuring out what I need and want."

"But then you moved this guy in with you after you'd only known each other a short time."

"I thought you liked him!" Oliver protests.

"I _do_  like him," she says. "I like him very much. But that doesn't take away from the facts."

"What facts?"

"The fact that you asked him to move in with you, you told me you were madly in love with him, you talked about _marriage_ for Chrissakes and now when one little thing doesn't go according to your plan, you're ready to bail on the guy. That's nothing to do with him and everything to do with you."

"Are you his friend or mine?" Oliver asks resentfully.

"I'm your friend, but Oliver," she stops and then begins again. "Oliver, if this guy had cheated on you, or done something mean to you, I would be the first one to encourage you to kick him to the curb. But he's done nothing but love you. And you love him. Or at least you did last week and I don't think even you would fall out of love that quickly. So why are you punishing him this way?"

Oliver ignores the question. He gets up and goes into the kitchen. "Do you mind if I make coffee?"

"Go right ahead." 

He busies himself making coffee. Molly goes into the kitchen and sits at the table to watch. Over the years the two friends have come to an agreement that Molly does not make coffee that tastes as good as Oliver's. She is happy to let Oliver go about it even now when she knows he is using it as a stalling tactic. At least there'll be good coffee to drink while she grills him and he avoids her questions. And she knows from experience that Oliver is a pro at avoiding talking about things. The kitchen is quiet but for the hum of the coffee maker. Oliver leans against the counter, carefully examining his shoes.  Molly watches him. He does not look like the same guy who was in this very kitchen a scant while ago singing the praises of Connor to her and Owen. When he had left, she and Owen had looked at each other and laughed. "A little lovestruck?" Owen had said. But it had been so nice to know that Oliver had found someone. And both she and Owen had actually liked Connor when they met him which was nice.

"Can I tell you what I think?" she asks him now.

"Can I prevent you from telling me what you think?" he answers without looking up from his shoes.

She shrugs. "Yes, actually, you can. If you don't want my input, I won't say anything."

He turns around and starts pouring coffee into two cups. "Tell me what you think," he says.

She waits until he has put the cups on the table and sat down opposite her. She takes a deep breath. "Alright. Here goes," she says. "I think that when you first met Connor, you thought he was too good for you. Out of your league, so to speak. No, no," she holds up her hand when he starts to interrupt her, "let me have my turn here."

He settles back into his chair, sipping his coffee and looking at her over the top of the cup.

 "You were surprised when he spoke to you in the bar, you were amazed that he went home with you, you were thrilled--absolutely thrilled-- when he came back for seconds. I know, I remember you calling and telling me all about him."

Oliver nods in agreement, a little smile coming to his face as he remembers those first giddy times. He _had_  been completely surprised and his enjoyment had not diminished even when he realized that Connor wanted something and was using him to get it. Especially when he had returned for more.

 Molly continues, "And, yes, he's got a lot going for him. He's smart--"

 "Brilliant." 

"He's good looking."

"Gorgeous."

"He has a certain sex appeal."

"He's fucking hot."

 "But you're all those things too. Plus you're sweet."

"He's very sweet, it's just something he tries to hide." 

Molly laughs at him. "My point is this; because you always seem to feel that he is somehow better than you, you look for ways to even out your relationship. And one of the ways you do that is to undermine him in certain ways."

"What do you mean? I'm not trying to undermine him at all."

"Remember when you threw him out because --you said--that he cheated on you?"

"I didn't _say_ he cheated on me, he cheated on me," Oliver says stubbornly.

"Oliver, come on--you two hadn't talked about being exclusive. You hadn't talked about being in a relationship. You weren't even really boyfriends yet. You could have just accepted his apology, discussed what you wanted going forward and carried on from there. But you didn't do that. You threw him out. And I think you did that just to keep him off balance--to make him come begging you to take him back."

Oliver takes a deep breath. Then another. He says rather petulantly, "He betrayed me."

Molly scoffs. "That's not true and you know it. You were jealous and scared and you over reacted."

"That's not what you said at the time." he argues.

Molly rolls her eyes at him. "Yes, it is. That's exactly what I said at the time. I told you to call him up and to make up with him because you were moping around so much. But you wouldn't do it, you wanted to punish him. And yourself, I think." She looks at him. "Why did you insist you two go get tested?"

Oliver makes an impatient gesture. "I told you, I wanted to be sure he was safe."

"You mean, you wanted to be sure that _you_ were safe. You were worried that he was positive because he was so promiscuous."

"Yeah."

"If things had turned out the way you thought they were going to--if he had been positive instead of you-"

Oliver interrupts, "Jesus, Molly, I didn't _want_ him to be positive."

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying that you thought it was more likely that he would be positive. And if he had been positive, and you had been negative, then it would have evened things out for you, wouldn't it?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do. It would have meant he wasn't perfect. It would have meant that he was beholden to you. It would have meant that he would be flawed in some way. It's like you go around looking for things to be critical about, to always be proving that you aren't his inferior."

"That's not true." he protests.

"Are you sure you aren't trying to get the upper hand somehow?"

"In what way?"

"Emotionally, maybe. You make emotional demands and he's forced into living up to those expectations. You're using sex right now to punish him for not getting HIV because _he_ slept around and _you_ didn't and you think it's not fair."

"You make me sound like an asshole."

"You seem to like to keep him begging for your love, Oliver. You give it, then you threaten to take it away. That keeps him from getting too comfortable, doesn't it? That gives you the upper hand every time."

"If anyone has the upper hand, it's him."

"Yeah, right," she says sarcastically. “I think you're trying to punish him because you're angry with him. The golden boy once again gets off scot free while you have to deal with being positive. Just admit you're scared and you're pissed off and deal with it. If he had been positive you would have never left him because he would have been apologizing and asking for forgiveness forever and you would have been the noble one.  It didn’t turn out like that—you don’t get to do the noble thing—and you don’t know how to react. But you need to start understanding yourself a lot better than you do. Because if you don't you are going to fuck this up for no reason other than your own stupid pride."

Oliver has no answer for her.

"Now drink your coffee," she says, "before it gets cold."

\-------------

 

Connor jumps up when he hears the door open. Oliver stands just inside, gently closing the door behind him. The two of them stand apart, warily watching each other.  Oliver takes off  his jacket and hangs it up. He tosses his keys into the basket. Connor folds his arms and tries to look calm. He takes a step toward Oliver, then stops. Opens his mouth to speak, but doesn't. Oliver takes a deep breath, crosses the few steps toward Connor and reaches for his hand. He pulls him in close for a gentle kiss.

"So I'm forgiven?" asks Connor.

"There was nothing to forgive, we both know that," answers Oliver.

"Then this is okay?" asks Connor sliding his hands up inside Oliver's shirt and pulling him in. He kisses him—a kiss aimed at starting something completely consuming. Oliver rubs his hand against Connor’s half hard dick through the fabric of Connor's pants. "This is okay. And quick," he jokes. 

"Well, it's been a while since you've let me get this close to you. I've got all this pent up --." Oliver talks over him, "We have a lot of things we need to talk about."

"I know," says Connor, "but first let's just kiss and make up."

 "Do you want to go into the bedroom and --." 

"Fuck and make up? Even better."

Mouth to mouth Oliver dances Connor backwards to the bedroom. "Take off your clothes." Connor looks amused but does as he is told. Oliver strips his own clothes off and they fall naked onto the bed.

Connor slips one leg over Oliver, anchoring him down and covers him completely with his own body. He kisses him and says in a voice rough with need, "I want to fuck you."

Oliver smiles at him, "No."

Connor answers by kissing him again. He threads his fingers together with Oliver's, holding him close.

 "Are you holding my hands, or holding me down?" Oliver asks.

 "Whichever turns you on the most,” Connor smiles while he kisses him. “I missed you. I want to be inside you."

Oliver doesn't answer. He bucks his hips up and turns, getting Connor under him in one fluid motion. "Not now, not this time," he says, kissing his way down Connor's body. He trails a wet tongue around each nipple, around his belly button, around the head of his penis, down to his balls. Connor is moaning with the pleasure of it, trying to grind into Oliver's mouth. Oliver reaches over for the lube and even though it's cold going on, Connor moans in anticipation. Oliver slips first one, then two fingers into him, watching Connor's face all the while. Connor's hips move as he tries to fuck himself on Oliver's fingers, tries to move faster. Oliver keeps up a slow pace even when Connor starts chanting "More more more more." He knows it can't last long but he wants it to last as long as possible. With his free hand, Oliver strokes himself--seeing Connor like this is so hot he knows it’s going to drive him right over the edge. He feels it coming and goes with it coming with a groan. His own need satisfied, Oliver lowers his head and takes Connor's dick into his mouth and in one strong stroke he feels Connor tense and knows he's close. He continues stroking him slowly with his fingers and lavishing the tip of his cock with his tongue and it doesn't take long before Connor is moaning "I'm coming, fuck, Ollie!" His hands tangle in Oliver’s hair as he thrusts himself into his mouth with a loud cry. Oliver stays with him, sucking every drop and licking the sensitive head of his dick until Connor draws in a sharp breath and pushes Oliver away with his hand. “No more.”

They lay in a sweaty tangle, both breathing hard. Connor glances at Oliver, "I really did miss you." Oliver puts one arm and leg over Connor, and nuzzles into his neck. "I was here the whole time." "No you weren't, not really." Oliver ignores his comment and rolls away just a bit, "It’s so hot, let me just air out a bit." Connor looks like he might pursue it but instead he lets it go. He caresses Oliver, his hands roaming over his body like he is relearning it. "I like fucking you, Oliver. Are you going to let me do that?"

"No."

 Connor makes an impatient noise. "'No', not now or 'No', not ever?" 

"Just no." 

They lay there together, listening to the sounds of the quiet apartment. The hum of the refrigerator. Low noises from the neighbours. Their bodies cool and they pull up a blanket to cover themselves.

Connor starts kissing Oliver's neck, rubbing his nipple between two fingers until Oliver gasps. His hand drops down and strokes Oliver's half-hard dick and Oliver murmurs, "Round two already?" 

"Hey, you've had me on rations for three days," jokes Connor. "I need to make up for lost time by fucking you right this very minute."

"Connor, think of something else, cause that's not going to happen," Oliver says.

"Please, Oliver," Connor puts all his efforts into his kiss, "Come on, you know you'll love it," he wheedles. "Please."

 Oliver raises up on one elbow so he can look at Connor directly. "Not this time," he says firmly.

Connor can't hide a look of disappointment. "So you're topping from the bottom now?" he says.

Oliver isn't sure but thinks he may detect a hard edge to Connor's question. "I thought you didn't believe in those categories"

"It's an expression."

"I know that. But what do you mean by it?"

 "You know what I mean. You want to keep me begging for it."

Oliver smiles lazily, "You love it when _I_ beg for it, nothing turns you on more."

Connor acknowledges that truth with a nod. "So is that what you're doing? If it's just a game, then fine, but I'm getting a feeling that it's more than that."

"A feeling? Like what?" asks Oliver.

Connor takes Oliver's hand and places it on his hard dick. "Feel this," he says.

 Oliver grasps it firmly and starts stroking "You want me to jerk you off?" he asks softly, kissing Connor's neck with soft lips.

 "I want you to let me fuck you," Connor repeats but he lies back, knowing that he's lost this battle. He is annoyed and almost wants to tell Oliver not to bother--almost. Oliver stretches out alongside of him so they can kiss while he strokes him and it _does_ feel good. Connor closes his eyes, he missed Oliver's touch and this is nice even if it isn't quite the mind blowing make up sex he had been imagining. When he comes, Oliver presses his stomach to him and his cum is sticky on both of them.

Oliver kisses him again and then says, "Suck me off," gently nudging Connor's head in the direction of his erect cock. For a second, he thinks Connor is going to refuse but he lowers his head and takes him into his mouth. While Oliver wouldn't call the blow job half-hearted, it is definitely focused on the end result rather than the journey. He feels himself coming within short minutes. Connor pops off and flops down on the bed, pulling Oliver to him. "Okay?"

 "That was nice, but it wasn't your 'A' game," says Oliver.

"Complaints?" Connor says.

“Technically superior,” Oliver tells him, “but maybe lacking in affection.”

 "If you want to play power games, Oliver, you're going to have to explain the rules to me."

"I'm not playing power games."

"What's going on then?"

Oliver picks at the blanket with one hand, "Nothing. I don't want to talk about it."

"It can't be both. Either it's nothing--which we both know is a fucking lie--or you are refusing to talk about it to keep me guessing. And neither of those two is an option anymore."

Oliver is silent.

"Did you think if we had sex I would pretend that the last four days didn't happen?"

Oliver is silent.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a bit of a struggle to write. For some reason, the boys keep getting away from me and wandering off to places I hadn't anticipated! I need to add another chapter after this--any helpful advice is more than welcome.:)


	5. When you've no one left to hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening in six parts.

**First Beer**

 

"Okay," says Connor, "that's it." He gets up from the bed and puts on the boxers he had tossed onto the floor. He grabs Oliver's and throws them to him, "Get some clothes on."

Oliver looks startled. He sits staring at Connor, boxers in his hand. "What? Why?" 

Connor finishes pulling on his black tank and reaches down for a pair of pants."Cause I'm done with this shit. We're going to talk this out and get this settled. I'm fucking losing it here with you, okay?  I don't like --"

"Why do we have to get dressed? Just talk to me right now if you want to talk."

"Yeah," Connor gives a short laugh, "except, no. Get dressed." He tosses more clothes at him.  When Oliver makes no move to put them on, Connor says, "Put your fucking clothes on, Oliver." Oliver opens his mouth to argue but one look at Connor and he closes it again. He gets up and pulls on his boxers and a t-shirt. Then he steps into his sweatpants. He starts for the door but turns back for socks and a sweater. If things are going to get ugly, like he is now imagining from Connor's tone, then he figures it's best to be completely dressed. In his experience, there's nothing worse than trying to argue naked.  Oliver hears Connor in the kitchen opening the fridge. Apprehensively, he steps out into the living room. Connor walks past him with two bottles of beer in his hands. He plops one down on the coffee table and sits down on the sofa. As Oliver walks over, Connor is taking a long drink out of his bottle. He gestures to the beer on the table, "That's yours." Oliver reaches for it as he sits down in the chair. "Thanks." He drinks from it, feeling uncomfortable under Connor's watchful eye. Connor doesn't speak right away and Oliver starts to feel nervous. Connor leans forward, arms resting on his legs, holding his bottle of beer and staring at the floor between his feet. Oliver takes another sip. He watches and he waits. Connor shakes himself and looks up. He puts the beer carefully down on the table with the deliberateness of a man who has made a decision and is ready to take action.

 

"Oliver, I have tried really fucking hard here to make this work. I've taken all my cues from you and I've deferred to you every fucking time.  From the minute you let me back in, I've been trying to please you, trying to find favour, trying to do what you want, trying, trying, trying. And there's been little moments here and there when I know it's okay and it's working but every fucking time something else happens and then I'm back in the shit again, I'm back to apologizing, back to trying to win you back to me again. I've sat here all the time you were gone -all those hours -- just thinking this through. Trying to figure out what the fuck I've done wrong this time. You know what? I haven't done anything wrong. Nothing. But I still apologize to you, I still try to make it up to you and I finally realize that's the dynamic you're most comfortable with so you're going to make me do it over and over and over again. Regardless of what I actually do, you're going to continue to make me feel like I'm the asshole in this relationship." 

"That's not true."

"It's true. And it started when you found out I had fucked Pax and you threw me out." 

"You cheated on me."  

"No." Connor shakes his head. "No, I didn't cheat on you. Yes, we were seeing a lot of each other but not once had we discussed being exclusive, not once."

 "You told me yourself that you had a minute of doubt before you fucked him, when he asked if you had a boyfriend."

 "Yes, I did stop for a second and think. But I didn't think ,'oh, yeah, I have a boyfriend but I'll fuck this guy anyway.' I thought 'Oliver isn't my boyfriend so I guess I can fuck anyone I want." 

"That's not how I was thinking about us."

  "Yeah, I know that now. But at the time I didn't know that because you never bothered to fucking tell me what you were thinking. It's like I was just supposed to know what you were thinking. You know what _should_ have happened when you found out? We should have had a conversation _then_ about what we wanted. You could have told me that you wanted us to be exclusive. But instead of talking it through, it was over. And I am really worried that you're going to do the same thing now."

"This isn't the same type of situation."

"But your reaction is," Connor's voice is raised, he is on the very sharp edge of anger and trying to control it.  "You shut down, you don't talk to me, you make me guess what you want." He gets up and paces around the room. Oliver follows him with his eyes.

"None of this is easy for me, either."

"Okay, then would you please fucking explain it to me? Open your mouth and _talk_ to me. Tell me what the fuck is going on in your head so we can save what we have here. You are going to let this positive test result ruin everything." Practically shouting now he makes a visible effort to rein himself in. He runs his hand through his hair, slams his hands into his pockets. He can feel his anger and frustration getting away from him. He turns away from Oliver. Scrolls through his music looking for something to play to buy some time for his heart to stop racing and to feel calm.

Oliver watches him fiddle with his iPod. The music blares out unexpectedly loud and Connor quickly adjusts the volume. _You were born on a black day/shot through with starlight/and all the angels singing/just about got it right..._   "Another beer?" he asks and when Oliver nods, he heads to the kitchen. He passes behind Oliver and like a child running his hand along a fence, drops his hand to Oliver's shoulder caressing the back of his neck as he walks by. Oliver leans back into the heat of his hand but it is so fleeting. In a second, it is gone.

 

**Second Beer**

"I think in a lot of really important ways we're very different," Oliver says. Connor tenses, _oh my god, he's leaving me_ , he thinks. While he was talking, his heart had been pounding so loudly he could barely hear over it, now he thinks it has stopped altogether. Oliver is still talking and Connor tries to tune back in. "You can articulate everything you're thinking so well--and nothing is ever black or white with you, everything is always a mixed up grey, nothing is good or bad, it's what you can prove, or what you can get people to believe. You can talk circles around me. You understand people. You're going to make an amazing lawyer one day." He pauses, looking to Connor. Takes a breath. "I can't always explain what or how I'm thinking. I can barely understand myself never mind other people. For me, everything is binary. For me, there are always two options -- black or white, good or bad, to stay or to go".

Connor holds his beer in a shaking hand. He continues to stare at the floor. He has opened an abyss tonight and into that abyss all his hopes and plans with Oliver are being tossed.

 

**Third Beer**

Oliver reaches for Connor's hand. He holds it in his own, tracing patterns on the palm. He brings it to his lips and kisses it. "You know, I once read about a couple who had been together for a really long time, 15 or 20 years. And they said that the way they kept their relationship going was to never take each other for granted. Even though they never married, they said that every day they would decide that they wanted to be together for one more day. One day at a time."  He punctuates each word with a kiss on each separate finger.

"That's a nice sentiment, Oliver, but I can't live like that. I can't live one day at a time, not knowing if next  week it's all over. I need a commitment. I need to know we're in it for the long haul."

Oliver doesn’t answer but continues to stroke his hand, he laces his fingers into Connor's, he holds it to his cheek, he kisses it once more. Then he gives it back to Connor. 

 

**Fourth Beer**

Oliver crawls onto the sofa pulling Connor down beside him. They wiggle around, getting comfortable, fitting their bodies together face to face. Oliver reaches out a tentative hand, caresses Connor 's cheek, trailing one thumb along his lips. Oliver kisses his forehead, his nose, his eyes and then makes a trail of tiny kisses until he gently, oh, so gently presses his lips to Connor's. These are delicate kisses, soft and undemanding. Connor slips both hands into Oliver's hair, pulling him closer and the kisses continue. Their breathing picks up and one of them (who is it first? or is it both of them together?) opens his mouth and tongues meet. Now the kisses are deeper, longer, and harder. Time slows completely and there is nothing for either of them but their mouths together. When they come apart for air, Oliver reaches down to peel off Connor's shirt. He wants, no, he needs, to feel skin on skin. Wordlessly the shirts come off and wordlessly they crash back together both of them with their hands tangled in each other's hair, both of them pulling the other into them so tightly they feel when the other takes a breath. Without taking his mouth from Connor, Oliver drops a hand down to the waistband of Connor's pants, slips a hand into them but before he can even touch his rock hard cock, Connor's hand is on his wrist, pulling him away. Connor breaks away from the kiss with a gasp. "No, don't." he says. Oliver looks at him, he is beautiful--his lips are red from kissing, his face flush with desire, "Why not?" he asks in a rough voice, "You want to."  Connor is trying to breathe normally. "We can't solve this problem by fucking, Oliver. Not every problem can be resolved by sex." Oliver tries to cajole him, "Are you sure? Your body is telling me you want to."  "Just because my dick's hard, doesn't mean I want to fuck." He sits up, pushing away from Oliver. He finds his shirt and puts it back on. He sits with his head in his hands. Oliver brushes his hair back from his forehead but Connor pushes his hand away impatiently.

 

**Fifth Beer**

They sit, each on one end of the sofa, legs meeting in the middle. They drink and watch each other. They are both drunk from the beer and tiredness and sorrow. Neither speaks until Oliver summons his courage to ask, "Are you leaving me?"

"I think you're leaving me.  I think you started leaving me the minute we got those test results."

**Sixth Beer**

Oliver opens his eyes to see Connor walking to the bedroom. He hears the sounds of him undressing, clothes falling in a heap on the floor, the squeak of the bed. He sighs. He walks drunkenly all around the apartment, turning off the music and the lights, checking that the door is locked. He plugs in his phone and Connor's phone. Walks over to the bedroom where Connor is under the covers. He hesitates in the doorway but then goes in, takes off his clothes with the deliberateness of a drunk and folds them neatly on the chair. He crawls into bed and Connor rolls over, back to him. Oliver reaches for him, pulling him close and he comes to him willingly.  Oliver fits him into his embrace spooned together as though everything were all right.  He kisses Connor's neck. "I don't want to hurt you, Babe" he whispers. It's the 'Babe' that makes Connor crack. Where did Oliver get that word if not from Connor himself.  He has hung on all night, determined not to cry about this but that one word does him in. "We started hurting each other right from the beginning." he manages to say, wiping at his eyes, not wanting to give in to tears. Oliver answers by pulling him closer, wrapping his arms and legs around him. He searches for the words that would console him, that would fix this awful night, the words to explain himself so that Connor would understand but he cannot find them. "Shh, shh, shh." he whispers. His lips are soft as he kisses down Connor’s neck, his spine and across his shoulders. "Shh, shh, shh."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very big struggle as I had lots of ideas but trouble fitting them together. Then I recalled an evening I once had in which my partner and I had too much to drink and too much to discuss and the end result was a fractured memory much like this. So I tried to fit this somehow into a similar framework. In this way, I've left out the connecting parts but kept the main ones. So imagine this happening over a few hours and many beer.
> 
> If I can figure out how to make it better, I will redo this chapter. Comments and helpful advice are most welcome, I beg of you!


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